


communication is hard (not really)

by lostnfound14



Series: freshmen are people too [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: College Sucks, F/M, anyway enjoy this shit show, i love their pairing tho as u can see, i will never stop saying that, peter and mj r still stupid kids, read part one first, rly only mentions of ben parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 09:16:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20654813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostnfound14/pseuds/lostnfound14
Summary: peter and mj suck at communicating.-read "please put something in your empty word doc" first if you want to understand this fic.





	communication is hard (not really)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not gonna lie, I feel this is weaker than the first part. It's not perfect, definitely. But I hope it still accurately captures Peter and MJ's awkwardness and characters. I feel like a situation like this could definitely happen in their relationship and so that's why I wanted to write this. Anyway, leave kudos and comment with an opinion, observation, or suggestion for a future fic if you so desire! Enjoy!

First things first: MJ doesn’t want to label what she and Peter have. Thankfully, he doesn’t either. As far as they’re concerned, they’re just friends who kiss sometimes. She brought light upon this topic the very next time they saw each other - after their next Philosophy class together. They didn’t sit next to each other at that time, because Peter was a bit late and both seats on either side of her were taken, so he had to take the walk of shame to the back of the lecture hall. 

However, MJ had been waiting for this class since their sort-of-date at the library - three days ago - so when class is dismissed, she waits outside for him to exit the classroom. Sure enough, as she leans against the wall next to the double doors (admittedly lurking), she sees him push them open, unaware of her presence. 

“Hey,” she calls, watches him jump out of his skin at the sound of her voice. MJ chokes back a snort, because she has something she wants to say and if she’s too busy laughing he won’t take her seriously. She prides herself on how literally people take her, so this is vital.

“Oh, hey, MJ!” Peter responds, smiling ear-to-ear. She almost blushes. That’s something she has to get used to, now that Peter’s in her life, because when he looks at her like _ that _ she has to think about some pretty twisted things in order to keep the pink from rushing to her cheeks. Punching that Neo-Nazi in her sociology class and imagining his bruised face as a result of it is a go-to.

“Hey, dork,” MJ says. Peter’s smile, instead of dissipating, seems to only grow bigger. Of course, she didn’t mean it in a rude way, but usually her nicknames for people that she likes - “nerd,” “loser,” “dork” - usually put them off and fuck up her possible friendships before they can even start. _ They’re just not on my wavelength, _ she thinks bitterly. But Peter is.

“What’s up?” He asks, head tilting slightly to the right like he’s some kind of puppy dog. His eyes are only adding to the parallel. She glances down at her Chucks, considering how she can phrase what she’s about to say. 

“Um,” she starts, exhaling. “Okay. Before I say anything else, let me just get this out of the way. I like you.” She waits for Peter’s reaction, but it’s pretty delayed. After a few seconds, he grins and flushes. _ God, _he’s too adorable. 

“I- I like you too,” Peter stammers, smiling nervously, running a hand through his gelled hair. MJ momentarily imagines doing the same thing with her own hand, entangling it within his locks, and kissing him -

But she’s not a stupid fucking sap. “Cool. Glad we… covered that,” she says haltingly, sounding way too diligent for a conversation like this. “But, um, I kind of don’t want to move too fast?” She says, her tone making it a question because she isn’t feeling too confident.

Peter’s smile turns into a slight frown. His happy puppy dog eyes become those of one that was kicked. “What do you mean?” He asks. Michelle swallows.

“I mean… I don’t want to put a label on…” she gestures weakly between them, and his eyebrows rise slightly. She hopes that means he’s starting to understand... “Us. This. Whatever we are.” _ Real eloquent, Michelle. _

His smile returns and he straightens. Good sign…?

“Oh, I get it, totally,” Peter says. Michelle can’t help but exhale shakily with relief. “Does that mean we still get to, um,” he pauses, running a hand through his hair again. It’s way too cute, but she can’t let herself get distracted. She quirks an eyebrow, thankful that she’s done embarrassing herself. It’s his turn now. “Do stuff together?” 

“Of course, nerd,” she says, rolling her eyes but unable to let a small smile pull at her lips. He laughs nervously and takes a step towards her. 

Michelle gets that familiar feeling of her heart jumping into her throat. The way he’s looking at her almost makes her squeak. She holds herself back because she is not a fucking mouse. But God damn it, he’s making it really hard. His eyes are boring holes through her own into her very soul, even as he smiles brightly, happily. 

“And can I still…” Peter rests a hand on her arm, gentle and not overbearing. Michelle almost melts into his touch because he’s too sweet. But her posture stays rigid. She’s able to maintain some of her composure with the comforting knowledge that she’s still taller than him. So what if it’s only an inch or two? 

His gaze flicks down at her lips. Her words are caught in her throat. He begins to lean in. MJ closes her eyes, almost accepting it, but this is no way to act in the hallway outside your lecture hall, so Michelle flattens her free hand against his chest, stopping him from moving any closer to her. She watches his face fall. His arm goes back to his side. She almost closes the last few inches between them before he pulls away completely because she feels bad, but then the look disappears and his face returns to one of neutrality. 

“Um,” she tries, rather lamely, knowing she probably just hurt his feelings, like, big-time. “Let’s keep that for a minimum for now,” she finishes, smiling slightly in an attempt to make him feel better. “That doesn’t mean we can’t still. Do that. But like I said, let’s take it slow.” He nods. She’s thankful, because she wouldn’t be able to bear another second of his sad, disappointed face without caving in. 

She knows what she wants, and she’s willing to make that known, but Peter… does something to her. Softens her. And she likes being soft but also hates it at the same time. She couldn’t let herself change for a guy. That was counterproductive to her life goal of being an independent, strong woman, who would change herself for _ no _ man. If anything, she was going to change for _ herself. _For the better. 

“Okay, MJ,” he says, relenting, his gaze softening, face reforming into a smile. She’s glad. “Whatever you want. Or need.” 

Those words are what finally make her smile, for real, because he _ cares. _ He’s nothing like her high school flings, guys who only focused on her body because they were too put off by her hardened exterior to actually _ talk _to her.

Michelle sticks her hand up slightly to wave lazily and smirk similarly. She turns on her heel, her last sight of Peter being his perpetual smile.

* * *

**Peter:**

hey

**MJ:**

hey dork

**Peter:**

r u busy tomorrow morning?

**MJ:**

got a class at 10, why?

**Peter:**

was just wondering if u wanted to grab a coffee or something

**MJ:**

sure meet me @ joes at 9?

**Peter: **

sure, see u tomorrow :)

**MJ:**

only middle schoolers type smiley faces peter

**Peter:**

:(

**MJ:**

actually, maybe i don’t mind

**Peter:**

:)

* * *

Peter likes that MJ’s texting persona corresponds well to what she’s like in real life. She seems like the person who might be more open over text, but he appreciates that she isn’t, because he wouldn’t know how to deal with it when he saw her in person. 

Something he likes to do is read over his and MJ’s conversations when they’re over, which Ned has caught him doing a couple of times and (rightfully) called him a dork for it. He just can’t help it, though, because every word she says to him feels like a gift.

_ Dork, _he imagines her saying to him after that last thought. She’d mean it in the best way, of course. That’s just how she refers to him. Rarely does she ever call him “Peter,” but he doesn’t mind, because that means that when she does, those times are special and he should hold onto them.

He scrolls through their (albeit short) interaction from the previous night when she had relented on her ceaseless teasing of his childish antics. Peter smiles when he thinks about it. She’s warming up to him. Slowly, but surely.

He climbs the steps to Joe’s, the dining hall that feels like a cage, where they had hung out for the first time, really hung out, as sort-of friends. Thinking back to the day, he remembers spitting out some food at some offhand joke she had made, clearly not expecting his reaction, telling from her widened eyes as he ducked his head in embarrassment, which quickly gave way to a laugh and a little reprimand. 

He gets the sense that her jokes usually aren’t appreciated (admittedly, even Peter hadn’t enjoyed them at first, because she was a bit rude, but he quickly realized that was just her sense of humor) and maybe that was why she was so surprised to hear him laugh.

Sure enough, she’s sitting at a two-seater table in the corner, almost hiding. It takes a moment for him to spot her, but they notice each other at the same time, Peter waving enthusiastically and MJ smiling, biting her lip to keep it from spreading. 

He likes it when she _ really _ smiles because those are the ones that make his stomach do backflips. Back before she kissed him after their study _ session, _ he hated that feeling because it would take his breath away, but now he revels in it, accepting it because he freely admitted that he likes her. What makes it all better is that she likes him too. 

(He might still have some trouble getting rid of the characteristic glee from his high school self at the knowledge that someone has a crush on him, but let him live.)

He takes a seat at the table across from her, saying a quiet “Hey” and fiddling with the string of his Columbia hoodie. It was one of the first things he did when he found out he was accepted - buying it - and he vowed to himself that he would never lose it. It’s a reminder that he, a poor kid from Queens, can go to the same school as the trust-fund babies from Park Avenue.

MJ eyes him curiously, before saying, rather dryly, “Go Lions,” by way of greeting and taking a sip of her coffee.

Crap. She already bought one. He had planned on maybe buying it for her and being a gentleman, but she seems to foil all of his plans to do anything gentlemanly. Maybe she likes to subvert gender roles, or expectations, or whatever. He tries not to let it bother him, but he was raised by Uncle Ben (God rest his soul) and Aunt May, who were the sappiest people he knew. So they _might_ have influenced the way he views romance.

“Shut up,” he says, smiling, not meaning it. MJ knows this. She smirks at him, placing her coffee back down on the table. “So, anything happen in the 18 hours or so that we haven’t seen each other?” He asks, trying to stimulate a conversation.

“Nah, unless you count having to avoid your dorm room because your roommate and her boyfriend have been fucking the entire time.”

Peter chokes on his drink that doesn’t exist for two reasons: one, he’s shocked by her vulgar language and the absolutely casual way in which she uses it, and two, he feels sorry for her. “You all right, dork?” She asks, only a flash of concern entering and leaving her eyes in an instant, but she reaches out a tentative hand that hovers over his shoulder. He wishes she would let it fall, but she pulls it back before it lands on the table. 

“I’m good,” he says, airways clear. “That sucks, though. I’m sorry that happened to you.” She looks amused at his previous distress.

“You have no idea,” she responds. “Like, when I came in, I saw everything, and I mean _ every-” _

“Stop,” Peter begs, teetering on the fence between laughing his ass off and vomiting. “Oh my God,” he mutters, his face scrunched up in disgust but smiling so that he’s not being too much of a dick. She dutifully does so, but something feels off. He knows he sounds cagey, which is weird because this whole thing was _ his _idea, but maybe it was because he couldn’t get his mind off of their conversation yesterday.

“You sure you don’t want to hear all the details?” She asks, smirking.

“I’m sure, MJ,” he says, his smile starting to fall. Like, had he done something that made her uncomfortable? He really hopes not. He shouldn’t have tried to kiss her. _ Stupid. _ He should have known he was moving too fast. But she _ did _kiss him first. Peter wants to throw his hands up in frustration, but that wouldn’t be fair. 

“Um, Earth to Peter?” He hears MJ say. He realizes she’s waving her hand in front of his face. Peter squints, realizing he’s just spaced out by a few million light-years.

“Shit, sorry,” he mutters. Her hand goes back to the table. She’s appraising him silently, eyebrows turned down and lips pulled into a flat line. He feels like she’s reading him like one of those thousand-page books she’s always carrying around. 

“What’s up with you, Peter?” He can tell she’s trying not to sound rude, so he decides not to focus too hard on the slightly biting edge to her words. 

“Um, nothing.” MJ tilts her head slightly. She doesn’t believe him. “Just, uh,” he scratches the back of his neck, trying to come up with a realistic lie. “I didn’t sleep well last night.” He still has slight bags, right? That excuse should work.

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, leaning back in her chair like she _ still _doesn’t believe him. He nods and smiles as if that will make him more persuasive. He’s been told he has puppy-dog eyes, so he flashes them at her for an instant. In that instant, he sees her expression soften slightly. Inwardly, Peter pats himself on the back. “Just so you know, I don’t believe you. But my class is in fifteen minutes, so I gotta get going.”

Peter blinks. _ Shit. _ “Um, do you want me to walk you there?” He tries, but she rolls her eyes - ouch - and then looks at him with an expression he doesn’t like to see on her face, on the wrong side of the emotional spectrum. 

“No, I’m good,” she says, already slinging her bag over her shoulder and taking the first steps away from him. “See ya.”

She’s not happy with him. It may be deserved, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Something’s up with Peter, and it irritates MJ that she doesn’t know what exactly it is instantly. Sure, she wouldn’t know unless he actually tells her, and that’s what really bothers her - he lied. This means that the real reason _ he _was bothered was something he didn’t want to talk about with her.

Maybe it’s something having to do with his personal life. Which MJ would respect. She’s learned not to pry, only allowing herself to focus on the things she could observe directly, whether it be by eavesdropping or simply using those things embedded in your skull called eyes. 

Or, maybe it has to do with her. Which only makes MJ want to pry. That’s her dilemma. She wants to get to the bottom of Peter’s caginess, but in doing so she’d break her own rules. 

As she sits down for her European History class, she thinks: _ Maybe it’s worth it. _

Peter is bone-tired after a long day of classes, so now he’s throwing a tennis ball against the ceiling in a boring, relaxed loop, while Ned works silently on a paper across from him on his bed. The continued motion is a nice way to ease his mind, making it easier to think. He’s considering how to deal with the MJ situation, but every time he goes through it in his head, he can’t come to the right solution. Groaning in frustration, he catches the ball one last time and places it next to him on the bed. 

“Ned?” Peter asks, unsure. He knows Ned asked him not to disturb him, but he can’t deal with keeping this in anymore. He had always been bad at keeping secrets.

He hears Ned sigh in irritation and the sound of his headphones clacking lightly against the keyboard of his laptop. “What, Peter?” He winces at the other boy’s tone. Did he have to tell him right now? Was it so important that he had to interrupt Ned’s much-needed focus and work? He already felt bad. It could wait.

“Never mind,” Peter says, closing his eyes. “I’ll tell you later.” 

All he hears Ned say is “Okay,” then the sound of fingers hitting keys starts up again.

The most correct way to describe MJ’s actions today: Lurking. She had been a bit of a lurker in high school, never actively making herself seen if she could help it: sitting in the back corners of classrooms, getting picked last in gym class, only raising her hand if she felt _ really _ passionate about what she was about to say (and the teachers always called on her because they were shocked that she actually _ wanted _to participate).

She doesn’t like the word, _lurking_. It sounds sinister, creepy. 

People had called her creepy, weird, intrusive. She’d always come up with some retort quickly, one that scathed, burned. It worked in getting them off her back, but that didn’t mean those comments didn’t bother her. Now, though, she’s just proving those jerks right.

She looks for Peter everywhere but doesn’t see him until their Philosophy class. All she can think when she sees him is that she’s missed him, and it’s only been a day. He’s making her soft. She wouldn’t be lying if she said she sort of likes it. He gives her a nervous smile, and sits a good distance away from her, like last time. It sort of hurts. Sort of. 

She now knows without a doubt that _ she _was the reason why he had been so bothered back at the cafe. What could she have done?

Well. That part’s obvious. She’d hurt his feelings with the whole “taking it slow” thing. Especially when she didn’t let him kiss her. That was cold, even for MJ. She feels a momentary pang of guilt at the memory. 

But he’s being immature. Like, come on. If he really cared - 

No. It’s not fair to think of it that way. He obviously cares. It’s just… He’s way too sensitive. Normally, MJ would leave people like him in the dust, but there’s something about Peter that makes her pause to do so.

First of all, the well-established fact within her mind: He’s cute as all hell. His messy curls that sometimes spill onto his forehead and make her want to reach out, brushing them to the side, his eyes that tell her so much with a simple look, his _ muscles _that he hides beneath flannels and baggy sweaters. Yeah, she’s noticed. He must be a gym nut. She knows two kinds of gym nuts: The kind that brags about how much they can bench, and the one that can bench more, silently. She has a feeling that Peter is the latter. He’s too nice to brag about anything.

Second of all, he’s sweet. He _ asked her for consent to kiss her, _ for God’s sake. No guy she’s been with - “been with” - has done something similar.

Finally, the icing on the cake isn’t exactly something _ he _does, but something within her. A sensation of comfort. She always felt that the guys she’d dated in high school would dump her at a moment’s notice, so she usually was the one who ended things before they got the chance, to save her own ego. 

But, even though they’re not really in a relationship (yet, she reminds herself), she doesn’t feel like Peter would want to end things if they were. He’s a good guy. Someone she shouldn’t let slip through the cracks. 

But because she’s stubborn, she hopes to God he won’t let _ her _ slip through the cracks. Because she’s not about to chase after him. She’s no sappy rom-com love interest that needs to be serenaded with a huge boombox by a boy in a nice car.

No matter whether or not she has a soft spot for _ Say Anything. _

Peter watches her walk through those double doors, not wanting - not being able - to talk to her what with the inner turmoil that burns within his head. He’s so weak. He should step up. Be a man. He winces at the thought. He hates thinking that “the man” should be the one who takes the first step in reconciliation, really the entire idea of being “the man” in the first place. 

As he walks back to his dorm, he remembers something Ben told him about relationship troubles. Back when Peter dated Gwen in high school, they’d had some stupid disagreement over something he’d done, which he’s forgotten by now. They ignored each other for a week, reluctant but too stubborn to overcome their differences. One night, when the table was cleared of evidence of a dinner of Japanese take-out, Peter burst at the seams, unable to hold in his problems any longer.

_ “What do you do when you have a fight with May?” He allows the words to tumble out of his mouth. Shock was evident on Ben’s face, but then it turned into one that sported a knowing look - a sly smile, with understanding in his eyes. Something about Ben made Peter feel like he could tell him the world was going to end tomorrow, but that everything was going to be just fine, and he would believe him. _

_ “Trouble with the missus?” Peter nodded, not even acknowledging his use of the word “missus” because that’s usually the way you would refer to your wife, if you were around Ben’s age, right? And he’s definitely not had any thoughts of marrying Gwen. “Peter, you wanna know something?” _

_ “Please,” he urged, already feeling embarrassed about telling Ben in the first place, but he loved him and respected his word. _

“She,”_ he said slowly, emphasizing it. On purpose. “Is always right.” _

_Peter scoffed. No way. There was no way Gwen would always be right. There were times when she was definitely wrong, like when she raised her hand in Physics yesterday and didn’t answer correctly - _

_ “She can’t be-” Peter starts, but Ben sticks a hand up in protest. Dutifully, Peter cuts himself off. _

_ “She is _ always, _ always right,” he says again. “But you know what’s great?” There’s a friendly twinkle in his uncle’s eye, alluring and comforting. He waits anxiously for Ben to continue. _

“You_ are always right, too. Both of you are right. What’s important is that you two can acknowledge that you two are right, but also that you’re both wrong.” _

_ Peter was a bit shocked by Ben’s words, but they resonated with him and made him feel better. He smiled, thanked Ben, and went to his room for the night. _

_ The next day, the first thing he did when he got to school was to ask Gwen if they could talk. She nodded and led him to a quiet corner of the school. There, they worked out their disagreement. _

_ Just like that, all was good. _

The memory makes Peter smile, but at the same time feel that familiar burning behind his eyes that signifies the start of tears. He misses Ben so much. His words are like nuggets of gold sprinkled throughout his mind, and Peter holds on to those he can remember as tightly as possible because now Ben only lives on in his memories.

He was wise. Peter hates using the past tense when referring to Ben because it’s just another reminder that one night, Ben was senselessly killed and took his last breath. Now he’s no longer here to entreat Peter to more wisdom and unconditional love.

It sucks.

Aside from that, though, he thinks about what Ben actually _ said._ It makes sense, and he knows he should make the move to talk to MJ because she deserves an apology, but he’s scared that she doesn’t want to hear it, because she’s made it clear that she knows something’s up with him. Since she’s unbelievably intelligent, he wouldn’t be surprised if she already figured it out.

The truth is, he has to do something about it anyway. It’s wrong to keep this from her, even if she’s smart enough to deduce it with her unnerving observational skills.

_ She deserves better. _

MJ sits on the steps of Low Library, where other students are pretty much sunning themselves in the early spring warmth - woohoo, 60 degrees! - and reading, or shooting the shit, or whatever. 

The point is, they’re enjoying themselves, and MJ is jealous because she’s trying to flip through _ Game of Thrones _ but not able to actually read it because she still can’t get her mind off this stupid punk-ass, Peter.

This problem is so insignificant that it should have been solved already, but since MJ is too stubborn for her own good, they’re still not talking to each other and they couldn’t even get anywhere in their relationship before it even _ started- _

Ew. MJ cringes at the thought. She shouldn’t care. She _ doesn’t _care.

_ Stop lying to yourself. _

MJ sighs in defeat. She does care. She doesn’t want to lose Peter like this, so easily, when it’s something that could probably be talked over in a few minutes and then all would be good, or bad, at least resolved. She hates things that are left unfinished. 

She puts her book down into her lap and rests her jaw on her fist, looking out at the campus, bathed in sunlight. It’s beautiful. The trees are swaying slightly in the wind, their shadows stretching far, branches looking like veins in the red bricks that create zig-zag patterns in the ground. The sun is warm, and the sound of laughter and smiles and friendship wafts into MJ’s ears. She despises the fact that everyone can be happy but she’s just left in the dust by life, by people. 

Her eyes burn and - no, no, not here - she knows she’s about to start crying. MJ hasn’t cried in a long time, so the sensation is somewhat foreign, but still unwelcome. She cannot cry in a public space. Everyone’s going to hear. 

She wipes at her eyes and looks up across the campus again. She notices a figure approaching her. Like, walking directly toward her. It isn’t until she sees his head turn to squint the sun out of his eyes that she realizes it’s Peter.

Does God have something against her? Like, serious inquiry time. Because everything has just gone to shit in a matter of moments. 

He smiles nervously when he turns to look at her again and notices that she’s glaring at him, but frowns when he looks into her eyes.

Shit. Was she actually crying right now? She wipes furiously at her eyes, but they come back dry. It’s just in her head. She looks normal. She hopes.

“Hey,” Peter says. Suddenly, he’s standing in front of her. As much as she hates him right now, he’s still able to take the breath out of her lungs with just a look. “Can we talk?” He asks, gesturing to a spot next to her. She glances at where he’s pointed and nods, still unable to say anything in the wake of her almost mental breakdown.

He exhales shakily when he plops down next to her, not too close, and runs a hand through his hair. A flash of that same image that came to her mind in the middle of the conversation that started this whole bullshit problem returns, of her fingers carding through his hair as she whimpers his na-

Jesus fucking Christ. 

“I know what I want to say, but I just - I don’t know how to _ say _it, you know?” He starts, eyes focused on the steps in front of him. MJ nods, finally remembering how to speak.

“You were immature and couldn’t deal with the fact that I didn’t want to kiss you on the spot?” The words tumble out of MJ's mouth before she can check herself. she thinks that maybe it would have been better if she had kept her mouth shut for another few seconds.

He looks at her then, and a flash of hurt appears in his eyes. Her own eyes fall in shame. She’s tactless. So completely tactless. Like a child. 

“That’s not fair,” Peter says, voice now strong. 

MJ breathes in and out. “I know. I didn’t mean it like that,” she says quietly, hands fiddling with each other. She cracks a few knuckles. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Peter flinch at the sound of every _ pop. _

“You know, that’s how you get arthritis,” he says.

“Tell that to these beautiful hands,” she says, a poor attempt at a joke. Sll he offers is an unamused bark of a laugh. It’s all that quip was really worth if she’s being honest.

“Okay, look, what I wanted to say is-”

“I thought you didn’t know how to say it.

MJ might break her own leg if she actually kicks herself with the force she wants to right now because she’s being a smug little jerk who won’t let him finish. God. Sometimes she really does hate her lack of a filter.

He sighs exasperatedly. “Michelle,” he starts. Oops. Not good. “I wanted to apologize because yes, what I did was really immature, what with the whole not talking to you for a few days thing.” MJ listens, having learned her lesson. “But… I’m just confused. You - you’re the one who _ kissed _ me,” he whispers the word conspiratorially, like a fifth-grader. MJ has to bite back a laugh but is also focused on what he’s trying to say because she’s a good listener - she’s observant, after all. “But then you tell me that you don’t want to move fast? I just - I don’t get the mixed signals.”

She looks back out at the campus. Everyone is carrying on with their lives. This is no rom-com. There’s no stage, no cameras. _ Be real. _

“It’s not always like that, Peter,” she says, her tone almost making it feel like she’s explaining it to a child. “There’s no cookie-cutter way to go about a relationship.” His eyes meet hers. He’s listening, and it feels amazing. “I just- I haven’t had a lot of luck with relationships in the past.” Her eyes fall as she admits it, because she hasn’t opened up to anyone like this before. Well, there was Liz in high school, but a lot of that was just having the world’s biggest crush on her and seeing that as an excuse to dump all of her problems on her. (She was surprisingly understanding.)

“So, like, I just haven’t had a lot of good experiences… and I can’t be sure whether you… really want this, you know?”

He almost looks insulted at the assumption. She doesn’t know what else to say. Is what she said true?

“MJ,” Peter says, smiling in mild amazement. Good. She’s back to “MJ” status. “I _ do _ want this,” he assures. MJ starts to _ really _feel the sun shining on her as he says that. Her doubts are slowly being forgotten, shot down by punk-ass Peter’s words. “I want this, like, really bad.” 

She still can’t help but be snarky, in a way to mask her own insecurities: “And you promise you won’t not talk to me for prolonged periods of time if I give you mixed signals and actually come to me to discuss them?” Her tone is unwavering, but Peter must see something in her eyes because he tentatively rests his hand on her arm and nods.

“I promise,” he almost whispers. MJ swallows. His hand rises from her arm to her shoulder. Before she knows it, she’s hugging him, squeezing the absolute bejeezus out of him. Peter makes a small squeak of surprise (which she’s definitely going to tease him about later, but now she’s going to hug him because he’s warm and his chest is broad and muscular, and, um, yeah) but then settles into her arms, wrapping his own around her shoulders as hers envelop his waist. One of his hands slowly cards through her curls. She wants to say what is she, a cat, but she kind of likes the feeling and the comfort it provides her. 

She sheds no tears but instead smiles into his shoulder as they sit in each other’s embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into her hair. She realizes that he hadn’t actually said it until now, meaning she had forgiven him without actually hearing him say it first. The thought impresses her. _ He must be good if he can get me to do that, _ she thinks.

“Good,” is all MJ says in response. Peter laughs for real this time. Her heart flutters at the sound, almost a childish giggle. 

“I missed you,” he says, finally pulling away a bit so that they’re looking at each other again. MJ picks her head up so that their gazes are level. She almost rolls her eyes. Almost, because he’s corny but she can’t deny that it makes her feel… if not loved, appreciated.

“I guess I missed you, too, dork.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed that :) Definitely thinking of adding a third part to this, but in the meantime, please still give me suggestions for other stories that you think I should write. Also, check out my other fics! They're all Spideychelle. Thanks so much for reading! Leave a comment if you made it to the end :) Until the next fic!


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